


'Til Death Do Us Part

by BlackWolf2Dragoon



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Gen, Psychological Horror, Religious Content, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Superstition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2012-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-21 05:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackWolf2Dragoon/pseuds/BlackWolf2Dragoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by The Haunted Mansion. Having been drawn to an abandoned mansion after fleeing a gang of chavs, Alfred's thoughts on the world and after life completely changes as the mansion that held nothing holds many secrets behind its abandoned, forgotten, closed doors of murder and betrayal. Romanceless, T for horror, one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Til Death Do Us Part

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my 5th Anniversary on Fanfiction.net. Hope you enjoy it here more than they did!
> 
> This story is based off the Disney ride as well as the Disney film of The Haunted Mansion and therefore it very well might appear scary or disturbing. This is rated T because there is no actual graphical detail, however some people may be disturbed by what they read. Think of this as a late Halloween fic as well. There will be major character death, but I do hope that doesn't put you off! Take it into consideration and read on, my dear loyal readers!
> 
> Characters-
> 
>  
> 
> **Arthur Kirkland = England**
> 
>  
> 
> **Alfred F. Jones = America**
> 
>  
> 
> **Matthew Jones = Canada**
> 
>  
> 
> **Ivan Braginski = Russia**
> 
>  
> 
> **Elizaveta = Hungary**
> 
>  
> 
> **Toris = Lithuania**
> 
>  
> 
> **Feliks = Poland**
> 
>  
> 
> **Feliciano = North Italy**
> 
>  
> 
> **Romano = South Italy**
> 
>  
> 
> **Natalia = Belarus**
> 
>  
> 
> **Katyusha = Ukraine**

'Til Death Do Us Part

The night was young; the moon flew high in the sky, illuminating the sleeping land. There wasn't much sleeping going on at a nearby mansion, however. Mansion is what it was called, but many described it as the size of a castle, almost. Holding the same high royalty and immaculateness that any modern and even ancient castle would demand. Outside it held the same immaculateness as the inside did, where the guests were enjoying their night, the night that the heir to the mansion was holding his wedding. The whole family had joined in to see the day, a very special occasion for the whole family far and wide. Over a hundred people had arrived for the occasion, the once in a life time.

But even good nights could end in a flash. A flash happened, black clouds suddenly rolling in, covering the moon and it's bright glow and brought with it heavy rain, pelting the ground in harsh anger and punishment. Heavy rain pelted against the hard stone roof of the mansion, water trailing down the sides as if the mansion itself was crying over the loss of the moon's glow.

The gardens, though hidden behind the absence of the moonlight, grew happy for the rains. Not that they were abused or neglected, they were well kept in prime condition, standing tall with colourful pride. But the tears of God always hold something extra exquisite inside them, holy tears perhaps. The plants themselves absorb it, keeping the holy moisture and growing with it.

But the stones ne'er benefit so much. As the rain pelted them, they began to cry. Mourning for what they stood for, the loss of life, the memory of who they act as. The prediction that there were many more of their kinds to come, to serve the memory of more.

They were predictions of what was to come.

As God thundered with lightning, a warning for what was to come, a warning for the mansion and the people that resided inside; the people still danced. They danced in celebration; unaware of the warning they were given. Until it was too late.

There was a loud noise, a gunshot that cut the celebration. A hot knife through butter, suddenly there was simply silence.

Before the screams began. Then, one by one, they were silenced. More stones were added that night, to mourn again with the rest under the tears of God.

…

Paperboy didn't seem half as good as the old video game claimed it would be, Alfred concluded. Though he did feel grateful that he didn't have any bees flying after him or dogs running after him in the streets, he still never felt that true feeling of being free whilst he cycled down the town. That was probably why he decided to take a detour one day, having already given out all the papers to everyone that ordered one.

Said detour consisted of lengths of woodlands, a barely made out road of where cars used to go through and the occasional sign that people only came down this road to dump stuff and hadn't come by recently at all. But he kept cycling, having nothing better to do anyway. He had already picked up his money and his parents didn't mind him going out to do as he wished as long as he let them know he was okay. He wasn't into gangs and he had a few close knit friends, as well as his brother Matthew. They were twins, people couldn't much tell them apart, but their personalities were very different. Whilst Alfred was loud and boisterous, Matthew was quiet and controlled.

Though Alfred could be looking for a better job than the one currently, he supposed, rather than cycling down the road to endless woodlands. Being twenty three and only a paperboy job, he had a hard time finding his own place to live and a stable job. He recently finished his course in university but that hadn't helped in finding a job, or even being accepted. If anything, it hindered it somewhat. Overqualified. Really. That didn't make much sense, not to Alfred anyway. It's like saying he was too good for a job, so being a homeless man with nothing was much better.

His parents understood, however. They allowed him to stay at theirs until he could find a stable enough job to move out on his own, since Matthew had decided to stay extra long at his own University for a Masters degree. Alfred grew tired of knowledge quickly and wanted to experience things for himself, but not quite like this. He was rather naiive when it came to the world, he realised, still being a newborn compared to many others. He was easy pickings for many scams, but soon he knew he would grow into a proper man, capable of anything the world threw at him.

Well, almost, at any rate.

That statement held true when Alfred stopped when the road ended and a fence began. Fence was tame, gate seemed more appropriate. It was old fashioned, grey and not welcoming. Moss that appeared to have lived there for years only added to the aura of abandonment. The gates were chained up together, a padlock keeping it locked from the world. Even that had aged from the terrible weather and time.

Alfred looked past the lock and unwelcome gate to find what could've been a beautiful, welcoming garden but had been left to nature herself. Sad, abandoned, the flowers invaded by the predatory weeds, a war quickly lost and the garden spoiled. It was a shame as well; the garden seemed to hold high potential to be very beautiful.

But even that wasn't the most surprising thing. Past that garden was a mansion. A mansion that seemed almost medieval in its age, worn out with age that held a certain perk for any historian. Somehow, even though the mansion appeared medieval, no moss or any plant life dared to climb the magnificent building. It seemed well kept from a distance, but still seemed like it was a house that Scooby Doo would've visited often to solve a crime. Alfred swore he could hear a wolf howling if he stuck long enough to listen.

He had to wonder how nobody had gone to sell the house yet, how the house could've been left abandoned and forgotten about. It seemed grand, huge and very posh, if a little depressing; cured by a touch of gardening perhaps. Alfred knew people would've paid thousands, perhaps coming close to a million, for a mansion like this. He figured politicians would've been fawning all over it if they had the chance, and yet this mansion stood here, forgotten and abandoned. He couldn't understand it, he had never seen this house before and he had been looking in the brochures when he could for houses that seemed affordable for him when the time came. What was so terrible that nobody would ever come down this far and leave the mansion to the dogs?

For the next few months, Alfred Jones went back to the mansion whenever he felt the need to escape real life. When he felt that the world was pushing him down, he returned to the abandoned mansion and sat and watched the building. He couldn't explain it, but there was definitely something drawing him towards the mansion, something that was inside the mansion, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't open the gates. He tried a hammer and he tried scaling over the gates, but they held spikes above to prevent burglars from getting inside and the mansion remained unobtainable. The trees were too tall and the drop would certainly be too high to risk taking, no matter how desperate he was to get inside.

But one day, that changed.

He was cycling towards home, his mother asking him if he could bring a few groceries over for dinner tomorrow since she had to take care of the house since a small leak got into the house. He was happy to help his mother out, knowing it must be hard work being a mother and looking after your twenty three year old son who couldn't find a job still. He was trying, he really was, he even went to the job centre to get advice and gave in his resume, but he had yet to hear back from any job yet. The job centre told him he could be waiting for months until someone would finally accept him and he could finally lead his own life, get a girlfriend or boyfriend (he knew he was bisexual, his parents knew and they accepted that full heartedly like good parents should). Suddenly, a car pulled over beside him and the windows lowered.

He had a bad feeling from the start. The way they were dressed and the drinks in the car gave out bad news for sure. Drinking and driving was one thing, but being dressed up like a band of gangs was another. Chavs, Alfred thought bitterly. He never got along with chavs, being the apparent geek as he was (if liking Star Wars and Roleplaying was geeky, then he was proud of it) they were his apparent enemies and he steered clear of them. But he didn't enjoy stereotyping; it seemed so petty to him, so he figured he could give the guys a chance.

"Hey, mate, c'mere a sec." The driver demanded. Alfred was sceptical, he did sound like a holiday maker, lost maybe, but the drinks and the dress sense still gave off big warning bells. Still, Alfred could give them a chance to redeem themselves. Stopping his bike but not getting off, he turned his head towards the gang.

"What's the problem? You guys need directions?" He asked as politely as he could, his mother taught him well, bless her.

The gang in question all simultaneously smirked, all three of them. Then they got out of the car. Nervous, Alfred sat up on his bike, ready to ride off if there was something off. And there definitely was. One person brought out his bottle and made a leap for Alfred with it. Quick as a flash, Alfred took off in his bike, heading for the one sanctuary to hide in he could think of. It was a crazy idea, that was clearly a dead end, but something told him deep in his head that he would stand a better chance if he biked in the woods since he would never beat a car. He heard the engine come back to life and he turned quickly into the woods, headed straight to where he knew the sanctuary lay.

He was right; the gang didn't follow him through the woods, instead opting for on foot. But it was futile, he was entirely too fast on his bike. He soon lost them and stopped in front of the gates. He parked his bike in its usual place as he stood by the gates to look at them again.

Then he heard the rev of an engine behind him. Turning around, Alfred spotted the gang's car cutting the power and the trio getting out of the car. With no way to bike away, he turned to the gates and shook them violently, calling for someone to open the gates. He knew it was futile; he was going to be beaten up and left out here in the woods where nobody would find him. Quickly, he went to grab his phone to call the police hoping that would at least give him a chance, when one of the chavs went for him. He raised an arm to his face, to at least protect his most vulnerable exposed part of him, when something happened.

Like an angel from the heavens, something saved him. For some inexplicable reason, the padlock that locked the mansion away from the world snapped as if shot, the chains fell and the gate threw wide open, welcoming the world back into its Garden of Eden. So it seemed in Alfred's eyes, anyway. It was an escape, a call from the angels to get inside quickly, away from the devils about to lynch him. Quickly, he turned and ran past the gates, the chavs too shocked and frightened by the sudden opening of the gates to stop him. As soon as Alfred was inside, the gates swung shut, the padlock magically flying back up with the chains and locking back up again. Without hanging around, the chavs turned and fled in their car, backing up and not looking back.

Sighing with relief, Alfred turned to survey the area. The garden was definitely something that could've been amazing, a paradise for the outside world in human standards. A fountain of a cherub that no longer spat out water stood not far that probably served as a bird bath haven for birds alike. There were clear signs of care for where the plants stood, until the weeds moved in and took over, the flowers now dying and the beauty with it.

Alfred walked on, fascinated by a nearby statue of a man. He stood not too tall, in his forties maybe wearing a suit and a scarf bizarrely enough, but it seemed to suit him well. The statue was surprisingly clean for the rest of the garden to appear so abandoned, even as Alfred looked down at the plank beneath to explain the statue. It read:

**Ivan Braginski, Lord of the Manor.**

**1952 – 1995**

**May he forever wander the lands of Lost.**

Confused, Alfred shook his head. So, that meant he had died? A long time ago as well, it seemed. No wonder the place was abandoned, but surely the rest of the family could've looked after the house. Looking past the statue, he spotted the mansion, but there was something behind the mansion from what he could tell. He didn't want to be rude, but he couldn't help himself. If this place was as abandoned as he felt, then he was sure nobody was living here anymore. Walking around the back of the mansion, Alfred held in a gasp.

A cemetery for a back yard. That wasn't something he saw every day. Not a simply cemetery either. There were many graves, all of them the same shape, lined up. Hundreds of them, all treated equally except for the few in the back that were bigger and had a tree growing beside them. The rest of the Lord of the Manor's family, Alfred assumed. Reading some of the gravestones, Alfred became wary.

**Feliciano Varges**

**1984 – 1995**

**No longer shall he cower in heaven.**

**Romano Varges**

**1983 – 1995**

**His anger was his end, a fitting one.**

**Antonio Fernandez Carriedo**

**1972 – 1995**

**May his sunny days shine brighter in heaven.**

**Ludwig Beilschmidt**

**1970 – 1995**

**Even in death, all bow to his ways.**

**Gilbert Beilschmidt**

**1943 – 1970**

**Trouble finds him, even in death.**

Of the many tombstones that Alfred was reading, he began to notice that most ended in 1995. What happened in 1995? How could most of the people here simply die in 1995? It didn't seem special to Alfred, at any rate.

A gunshot. Quick as a flash, Alfred ducked behind the tombstones with a shriek of panic; his arms going to his head as another shot rang out, striking the tombstone, the dust of the damaged tombstone raining down on Alfred as he lay frightened for his life. As the ringing faded, he could hear a dog barking not far away, a deep bark of a guard dog. How had people snuck up on him like that; he hadn't heard anybody coming towards him!

"Come out with your hands up, filthy yank!" A voice ordered, and from what Alfred could tell it was a male. A posh male. Posh was just scratching the surface. "I caught you on the property, come out and show yourself, like a real man!" The dog barked louder, as if supporting what its master was demanding from Alfred himself.

Not knowing what else to do, Alfred held his hands up and decided to give the man some warning beforehand; "Okay, I'm standing up! Just don't shoot!" He hoped to God the man wasn't a lunatic or a thief; he'd dealt with enough bollocks already. Slowly, he stood up, not taking the chance of brushing the rubble of tombstone from his shoulders as he took in the stance of the man holding what appeared to be a hunting rifle to his face.

The man looked to be in his twenties, twenty five at most, with ash blond hair and piercing, sharp green eyes leaving Alfred no doubt that he wouldn't miss a shot if he were to pull the trigger. Even if he was shorter than Alfred by about an inch or two, give or take; the grimace on his face showed no doubt he could pull the trigger and murder if Alfred made a wrong move. And what a face. It was clearly masculine, the chopped hair only added to the masculinity only to be ruined by what appeared to be caterpillar sized eyebrows. Alfred still didn't risk laughing, even if they did appear ridiculous; they did somewhat make him even more menacing. The man wore a penguin suit, full on tux with the tie and gloves, wearing a jacket for outside but no top hat to go with the suit. He almost looked like an agent, if it weren't for the fact he had a hunting rifle and a dog still barking away. The dog was a Doberman, a German guard dog used often by police, if Alfred's information was correct and it wore a black collar with a tag attached, but Alfred couldn't get a look from where he was standing, a rifle still to his face.

Then the man spoke again. "State your name, boy."

Well, that was rather rude.

Alfred cleared his throat before answering, hoping the man didn't hear the squeak; "I'm Alfred F. Jones, sir."

"And what is it you want, Jones? We're not selling the house, if that's what you were contemplating."

Selling the house?

"No, you don't understand-"

"Then enlighten me, before I grow tired of listening."

Swallowing, _this guy is really intimidating_ , Alfred tries again; "I was hiding away, I got chased here by some people and I needed a place to hide."

That didn't seem to calm the man. "Have you brought them with you in here? Who are these people you speak of?"

"Just some idiots wanting to beat me around for a laugh, sir. They ran away when the gates closed, I promise!"

The man considered lowering his gun, seeming to believe the young lad before looking down to his dog. "Fabian, sniff." The dog looked away from his owner, before going towards Alfred and sniffing his trousers. More accurately, his pockets. The dog snorted, wagging his tail again and walked back to his owner, sitting down with a happy face expecting treats. The man smiled slightly and brought out what appeared to be a small piece of ham and dropped it for Fabian. He then lowered his gun. "Seems you speak the truth, you're unarmed as far as Fabian's nose can tell."

Alfred was impressed, though he didn't want to show it. Dog training didn't come easy, so far he knew anyway. "Right… um, can I ask who you are, sir?"

The man put the back over his shoulder and smiled, holding his hand out; "Sorry about that lad, I'm Arthur Kirkland, keeper of the gardens of Braginski Manor. I also stand for Braginski's butler."

Alfred smiled and took his hand and shook it in a friendly manner, perhaps too friendly; "Nice to meet you, Mr Kirkland, sir! Name's Alfred, Alfred F. Jones."

Shocked by the friendly front, Arthur held back a flush and took his hand back, not in an unfriendly way; "Right. Now, what is it you want, Alfred F. Jones?"

Jones looked confused for a moment, before he brightened up again. "Ah yes! I need to get home, my mother needed some groceries before I got pulled up over here." He chuckled nervously and looked back towards the gates of the exit. "Do you think you could let me outta here?"

Kirkland 'hmphed' before he took out some keys in his pocket. "Of course, as long as you keep quiet about this place. We've had far too many realtors come by looking to buy the mansion and we simply grow tired of it." Arthur sighed, before he turned and motioned for Jones to follow.

It didn't take long to get to the gate, Fabian showing the way, wagging his tail. The silence felt uncomfortable for Alfred, not used to quiet company. He was always a free going lad, always talking about something, hating silence. Silence meant absence of sound, Alfred never liked any absence. He hated the cold, the silence, the dark; anything that meant the absence of something else. But the poor lad couldn't think of anything to break the silence, to fill it with something that didn't seem pointless or annoying. He couldn't quite get a read on Arthur Kirkland. He clearly had the eyes that could kill, he would defend the mansion whatever it took and it wouldn't rattle him. However, he also seemed like a warm, charming and welcoming chap. Alfred Jones wasn't sure how to tread, so he simply kept silent. Got nothing nice to say, don't say it; so to speak. Not that Alfred ever took that to heart.

Arthur stopped Alfred just before gate. "Wait here for a moment, please." He then turned towards the gate and inserted the key. Without warning, the key snapped in his hands before it reached the lock. Arthur jumped slightly, dropping his shotgun and quickly grabbed his hand in pain. The dog barked as Jones quickly went to Arthur's side, not knowing what happened from where he was.

"Are you okay, Arthur? What happened?" He asked his companion, spotting no wounds and no marks on Arthur's hand.

Kirkland clenched his hand up quickly, as if to hide a hidden wound and smiled uneasily. "Nothing, sorry, the key snapped in the lock and rebounded. You know how it happens." He stood up straight, picking up his shotgun again. "Well, that was the only key to that gate we had. I can try getting someone to remake one here, but that might not be until tomorrow. You can stay in a guest room until then."

Alfred's eyes widened, shaking his head quickly. "No, I can't stay, my parents need those groceries and they'll be worried about me!"

Arthur's eyes glinted something dangerous before he shouted back; "There's no way you can climb over the wall without seriously injuring yourself, break a leg or worse. I'm not risking you going home like that. You can stay one day, surely!"

Alfred wasn't sure, but Arthur sounded rather desperate for him to stay. What did he care if Alfred broke a leg, hadn't he shot at him in the first place?

Arthur shook his head before smiling sadly. "I apologise, but it wouldn't be the first time someone broke their leg when climbing to get inside here, you can imagine it attracts quite the attention of teenagers. I'd rather not have to call an ambulance because of your stupidity." He explained. It seemed to be enough for Alfred, for he sighed then shrugged.

"Alright, fine, but I'd like to call my parents to let them know I'm okay." Arthur nodded to give his okay as Alfred dug into his pocket for his iPhone.

Arthur blinked. "What is that?"

Jones looked up. "What's what?"

"That. I've never seen something like that before."

"Uh…" Alfred wasn't sure what to think. He hadn't met anybody that didn't know what an iPhone was. "An iPhone."

"A what?"

"It's just a really high tech mobile phone."

Arthur snorted. "It looks ridiculous; I had no idea the industries made things like that. What stuck up company made that?"

"Apple Inc. They own everything that has 'i' in front of it."

Arthur chuckled. "Of course, Apple never could compete with Microsoft, but I was aware they only made computers."

Alfred rolled his eyes, typing out his mother's number before putting it to his ear, waiting for her to pick up. Unfortunately, he only got voicemail and so he left a message letting her know that he was going to return in the morning, that he needed to help a friend and was staying over the night. He hung up before he looked to Arthur. "Okay, so…" Just as Alfred was about to speak, clouds rolled in, bringing with it rain.

"Yes, let's hurry inside before we get wet!" Turning around quickly, Kirkland made a run for the house, his keys out ready to unlock the door. Alfred followed quickly behind, noticing that the door seemed more ancient than it did far away. It had a lion head as a knocker, like many Victorian like houses and no number on the door to be seen. It looked recently used as well. So people did live here. How did these people live in this manor and remain mostly undetected by the rest of society. Alfred had never heard of this mansion or the Braginskis before coming inside and almost being blown to bits by the Braginskis' butler slash gardener.

Said butler quickly opened the door, letting them both inside from the pouring rain. Alfred took a good look, examining for the first time the insides of the house. It was magnificent as well as creepy at the same time. The mansion was huge, just as he was expecting. Old fashioned didn't even cut it. There appeared to be a large picture of the master of the mansion, Ivan Braginski on the front up the stairs, large enough for all to see. Whilst they did use bulbs, the candelabra like lamps gave off a low glow, not enough to be considered home-y. A huge chandelier floated above the centre of the room, covered in dust and spiders, forgotten even as it stood centre of everything. In fact, there wasn't a single thing that wasn't covered in cobwebs or dust. The tea sets on the cupboards held a blanket of dust on top as if it hadn't been moved for years and the windows were dusty and slimy, yet no dead fly was seen on the counter. The place screamed abandonment, neglected, much like the garden that used to bloom so admiringly so. The books on the shelves, the many shelves, untouched for years, having probably not seen the sunlight in as many years also. The rug, what probably used to be a red rug, now was simply dirty, dusty and old; worn out for the many days of feet that had lay upon it and now left to lie in wait for years of nothingness. If nobody knew better, the place hadn't been lived in for many years. It was a miracle that the light bulbs even continued to work. How could people live in a place like this and not get bothered by the dust, the sad lonely look the entire house had?

Arthur coughed, before he put his shotgun to the side besides the door along with his jacket. He turned towards Alfred; "Forgive the state of the house. You see, the master hasn't been feeling well lately, and so we have been tending to his needs far more than the mansion's own needs. It is neglectful of us, but we can't abandon the master until he is well once again." That still didn't explain things, but Alfred doubted he would get a better answer than that.

Arthur tapped his knee twice, the dog instantly going to his side, ready to follow his commands. "Well then," he drawled, "I'll show you to your room and see if I can find a couple of maids to get the bed ready for your stay for the night." He motioned his head for the young lad to follow him. They climbed up the stairs and turned right to a corridor. It wasn't particularly unfriendly, but because of the low lighting of the bulbs barely having enough energy to light the place, it gave the corridor the look of something out of a horror game he might've played with many of his friends from university. It didn't help his already frail nerves at all.

"I apologise for the lighting," the butler came in suddenly, breaking his mini thought panic attack. Arthur grabbed a nearby candle and matches, lighting it to help the way. Cheaper than torches, Alfred supposed. "With the master being as ill as he has been, we haven't been able to fix the boiler keeping this place going and paying for the electric bills has been a troublesome chore." Kirkland sighed, petting the dog a couple of times as he looked back to Alfred. He had decided to follow not far behind, not knowing the way and feeling safer behind a meat shield. "The master doesn't usually like guests and so we haven't been allowed to get an electrician to come in and fix the problem. It's rather a worrisome time for us, but we get by."

Alfred nodded, not knowing what else to say. He wasn't all too aware how it all went, given that he simply paid rent in parts thanks to student finance. Which he also had to pay back at some point in his life if he ever found a decent job. More decent than Mc Donalds or a simple paperboy.

Kirkland stopped suddenly as a creak was heard; then Fabian was barking, almost ordering for the intruder/stranger to come out and show themselves from around the corner. The intruder did so, revealing itself as a young maid with long brown hair and a kind smile.

Kirkland lowered the candle with a smile and sigh of relief. "Ah, Elizaveta! What impeccable timing! Can you be a darling and call for Toris and Feliks? This young lad here requires a room for the night, preferably room thirteen. Make sure his bedding is changed and he is given garments in which to change into for the night, if you please?"

Elizaveta smiled pleasantly, apparently happy to do the job. "Of course, sir. We'll have it ready in two hours!" She quickly scurried away, easily excited by the prospect of having outside company, or something to actually do, whichever seemed rather creepy to Alfred.

"Well," Arthur begins again, catching Jones' attention as he continued walking before Elizaveta made an appearance. "I can give you a tour of the mansion, if you wish? I do ask, however, that you only stay upstairs as the master likes his privacy."

"Oh, of course, dude- I mean, sir." Alfred cursed himself for acting out of turn. He had hoped to continue with the completely stiff polite act to keep in the butler's good books, still not forgetting the look in his envy-coloured eyes.

Arthur's eyebrows lifted, noticing the sudden change of tone from strict and obedient, to suddenly almost flamboyant and carefree. "I say… that was quite the change you took there, my son." Alfred knew that the butler didn't mean that in the literal sense, the 'my son' part anyway given that stiffs often said that.

"Um, change?" He tried to act innocent, to hopefully get away with his slip up. His voice trying to not slip back into his normal accent. He was an actor for a reason, _play the part right, Jones! You're a hero!_

"Yes… change." Arthur Kirkland scrutinised him for a while. Looking for any cracks that he could find. Before he smiled, patronising. "You do not have to talk in the same tones and class as I do, lad. I was simply raised this way; whilst I'm sure you were raised brutishly outside in that world, still so young. You probably have not mastered the proper etiquette of proper language and, I predict, dining too?"

Alfred flushed, caught out, embarrassed and slightly humiliated by this. He didn't even try to recover his act anymore. "Brutish? Is that what you think of us common folk? Animals or summat?"

Arthur almost winced at Alfred's sudden change of accent and slang, taking his glove off to scratch his ear as if pained. "Chap, I do not approve of that sort of talk. I'll be sure to break the brute within you and shape you into a proper man." He put his glove back on, coughing into it before proceeding to straighten his shirt out. "Now then, I shall give you a guided tour of this first floor and the floor above then show you to the dining room."

Alfred still wanted to argue, not appreciating being treated this way, but he nodded stiffly anyhow, following Arthur down the corridor. He explained a lot about the mansion itself. The Braginski family had built this as a small house to start with, but as the wealth of the Braginski family began to grow over the ages, so too did the house. Soon, it became a mansion that was kept in shape, being rebuilt constantly to keep the building standing, easily having the money to do so.

However, that changed recently when apparently the master of the house was taken ill. Nobody was sure what had happened, but they took care of him to the best of their abilities. There was an even bigger tragedy that Arthur wasn't sharing, Alfred knew, but he couldn't push too hard past the boundaries that had been set down. Instead, Alfred took a different approach.

"So, how did you come to live here, anyways?" Jones asked, taking his chances to at least ask that question.

Arthur huffed, still getting easily riled by Alfred's apparent lack of manners. "I was adopted. My parents were killed in the 1974 IRA bombings and I was left at an orphanage. The Braginski's adopted me when the previous master and mistress of the house were unable to have children anymore and wished to have another to take care of, so they took me in and raised me as their own. In repayment, I became their butler and gardener. I never thought of them as my parents, however, but I had never needed a parental figure in my life, I do not believe."

Alfred nodded; fascinated by the life he had lived. But then caught on, 1974 IRA bombings? Wasn't that almost a lifetime ago? By Alfred's standards, it was over that. "How old are you? You don't look over twenty five!"

Arthur thought for a moment, before he gave an answer. "Twenty four I believe. That sounds about right."

That didn't sound right at all. 1974 was ten years before Alfred was even born. "That ain't right, dude. How old are you really?"

Kirkland's eyebrows furrowed, annoyed and irritated. "I told you, twenty four. I shan't repeat myself."

Alfred didn't ask again, knowing he wouldn't get a different answer.

They arrived at dinner not long later, the cook Francis Bonnefoy was very proud of what he had cooked. However, Arthur wasn't sharing the gratitude that Alfred was.

"Get your perverted hands off me this instant!" Jones looked up to spot Arthur kicking the poor Frenchman back into the kitchen, Francis whining about being overworked and not getting enough 'satisfaction', so he said.

Alfred merely blinked when he heard Francis shout back: " _Mon ami_ , one day you will see the beauty that is _moi!_ " He swore he also heard a kiss being blown.

Jones looked up to Arthur when he finally took his seat at the dining table. It was rather posh, Alfred wasn't even sure where to place his hands or where to look. The table was oak and the table cloth a sunny yellow with Celtic patterns running along the length of the cloth. There were so many cutleries; he had no idea where to start. He hadn't been taught etiquette dining, as Kirkland knew already.

Arthur Kirkland himself sighed as he realised his companion's problem and proceeded to teach him in eating properly. It didn't take long for Alfred to get the ropes of learning to eat like a 'well respectable person', as Arthur liked to say.

Alfred tried to make conversation whilst eating.

"So, do you guys ever leave this mansion?" He thought that was a reasonable question.

Kirkland looked up, as if confused by what the question was. "How do you mean?"

Jones sighed. "I mean, that lock wasn't a normal lock. It suddenly opened up for me when those chavs were cornering me and shut quickly behind me once I got inside, but not before locking up and chaining the gate again as if it had never happened. What's up with that?"

Kirkland made an 'ah' look. So, he definitely understood what he meant, at least, and hadn't thought him crazy. Maybe something was going on after all. Arthur put down his cutlery, growing serious and apprehensive at the same time. He looked around to see if anybody else was listening, before he turned back to Alfred.

"This mansion… it is old and has many stories, but there are some that should never leave the mansion. There was… a terrible incident, a few years back. The master's sister was getting married and so we celebrated together as a family. A huge family, it is, so a mansion this size grew to house many for that celebration. This family keeps itself very close, always in contact, though not always there. Besides the point, we were all celebrating for the master's sister, Katyusha, getting married. It was not the nicest of days, much like today, only there was thunder as well. For a start, everybody was content. There were drinks all around, music, family, company and partying. Not to mention, plenty of beautiful women and handsome young men."

"But it had not remained that way. As the party went on, we remained oblivious to a sinister plan. We didn't see until it was already too late. There was a gunshot as someone shot poor Katyusha and her betrothed, killing them instantly and fled before we could see who it was."

Arthur swallowed, a haunted look flitting on his face, before it fled. "The master has loved his sisters, both of them. He has been to bed with illness for the loss of his sister and her betrothed to keep the heirloom going. He has not felt well since and refuses to leave the house, no matter what we try. Only the servants leave now to fetch food for us, the rest of us have not had the heart to ever leave this place with the master feeling as he is now."

Jones swallowed as well, shuddering as he felt a sudden gust of wind, a chill that went straight to his bones, forcing his body to chatter and shiver. Alfred looked around, unable to see anything, but almost leapt out of his seat as a door slammed shut. He just noticed out of his peripherals that Arthur had done the same. He quickly turned back to Arthur when he noticed the gesture to do so.

"Alfred, lad, this mansion has had terrible times. We're not sure, but us house residents believe that the spirit of Katyusha is still floating, watching her brother as he grows more ill and she grows more sorrowful and anxious to find her betrothed. Her spirit haunts these halls at night in search of her one and only. We believe because of this, the master is growing more ill because he cannot simply let go. We cannot leave this mansion either, nobody would be able to buy an obviously haunted mansion and our attachment to the mansion makes it impossible for us to leave. And so, we have been waiting here for the day that, perhaps, Katyusha's spirit may rest peacefully soon."

Alfred couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was so frightened by the idea, terrified that the whole story might've been true, that he couldn't speak.

He almost jumped again as the door was opened and Elizaveta came inside.

"Alfred, sir, your room is ready for your accommodation." She bowed.

Arthur sighed with relief and stood up. "Alright, lad. You better get some sleep. Katyusha will not haunt nor hurt you. She is merely a lost soul looking for her loved one. If you require any assistance in anything, you'll be able to find most of the staff further down the hall from your room in the maids room, they'll be happy to assist." Kirkland smiled as he walked to Alfred's side and held a hand out for Alfred to take. He did so, standing up and being left to walk to Elizaveta. "I shall wake you tomorrow morning when I have the keys to the gate."

With a nod, Alfred turned and followed the way back with Elizaveta.

As soon as Alfred left the room and the door closed, Arthur grabbed for his heart that he was sure was beating fast enough it was audible from the kitchens. That was a difficult task for him, frightening. To tell him that much, he knew he was going to be in trouble with the others. He had only met the guy once, but he had to get it off his chest! The lad looked so desperate to understand and so understanding that… he couldn't help but let his tongue fly. And now the young lad knew and the residents weren't going to be happy about it if they knew. Oh, and they would find out. They had eyes everywhere.

Arthur sighed as he dusted off his suit and proceeded to clean the table, having to deal with Bonnefoy again for another night. Strangely enough, he couldn't wait to see that Alfred F. Jones lad again.

…

Alfred tried to get Elizaveta to even crack a smile, but she seemed impervious to his attempts (or him even speaking, for that manner), much like a robot on auto-pilot. That was unfortunate, so Alfred took his need to do something, anything, to the house. Looking around the house, spotting spider webs caked with dust, flies of all sorts clung to it helplessly trapped and left hanging from their noose. It left a chill up Alfred's spine; too many dead bodies were left hanging from their ropes. He ignored them and continued on his way.

They arrived at his guest room soon enough before he became too bored, luckily. Elizaveta bowed down, informing him that this was his room and that there were bathroom essentials already in his private bathroom. It was more than just entering an en-suite room; it was more like entering a huge five stars, first class hotel by the Royal Family. There was nothing personal, to him anyhow, but there was definitely enough to make it look welcome. There was a bible on the bedside table along with a lamp that hadn't been plugged in. Despite having been cleaned, there was no hiding the neglect from Alfred's prying eyes. He could spot the cracks of age and the damp of damage, but there was no mould anywhere despite that. The wardrobe was large, antique like the rest of the room. It was the best way to describe the room, antique. The low lighting of the room with faulty lights didn't help either.

Jones was startled out of his examination as his mobile phone rang, by the ring tone he knew it was home. Maybe his mother got the message and wanted to make sure he was okay. He felt comforted by that, if a little annoyed at the same time. Grabbing his phone, he answered it as he sat down on the soft bed.

"Hey Mom, did you get my message?"

"I did, son, but your mother is asleep right now." He heard his father answer. So that's why she hadn't answered the phone earlier.

"I'm sorry I can't get the groceries over, did you handle dinner alright?"

"It's fine, I'll make some cheese on toast or something for her when she wakes up. You know me and my cooking."

Alfred chuckled. Oh, how he knew.

"I'll come back home tomorrow, don't worry. Can you let mother know when she wakes up?"

He heard his father agree and promised to see him tomorrow before he hung up. As soon as he hung up, he realised that there was a piano playing in the distance. It was in the mansion somewhere, Alfred knew, but he never remembered seeing a piano. The player was talented, if not a little creepy. There was no other sound beside the piano and the rain pattering against the tiles of the roof and window.

Curious, Alfred got up from the bed and opened the door. The piano continued to play, even as the creak of the old door signalled someone moving. Now that the door was open, Alfred could tell it was a pipe organ playing. Shivering, the young lad looked both ways down the corridor, seeing no signs of life (none he was comfortable with, at any rate), and proceeded to find out the source of the music.

He came to giant double doors large enough for a Cyclops to enter, Alfred imagined. They appeared medieval, but from the wood that was finely varnished to a finish only a master could truly appreciate. The pipe organ continued to play, Alfred now realising it was playing the theme that people got played when getting married. That was strange, Arthur Kirkland had never mentioned a wedding, in fact he mentioned that a wedding was what had killed two people of the family. Why would they want to hold another wedding so soon?

Checking for anyone again, Jones pushed the huge doors open. They creaked, having not been used in a long time, but the pipe organ continued to play. Inside was clearly a privately own church, candles keeping the room alight, easily over a hundred candles around the room with benches enough to keep fifty people sitting down, the windows depicting the many stories in the bible from what his eyes could tell; the paint had started to crack in the windows and became harder to see the story. Strangely, there were fresh flowers in the back of the room up on stage, despite the rest of the place seemed to be covered in dust similarly to the rest of the house. Untouched dust and spider webs everywhere in the room, the church clearly forgotten.

Then Alfred Jones stopped in his tracks; where the pipe organ sat in the front of the room, to the right of the stage, the pipe organ played. It continued to play the wedding theme, soon stopping to play the theme of God Save our Gracious Queen. It was an old pipe organ, again dusty, so it hadn't done the air quality a lot of good for playing songs. The pipes that threw out the music were growing rusty from age and damp, yet not from disuse. That wasn't what stopped Alfred, however. That wasn't what had Alfred shaking, shivering, terrified, fearing for his mental state. Jones rubbed his eyes, but it made no difference to what his eyes saw.

There was nobody there playing the pipe organ.

It was playing on its own, the keys being pushed down by some force, making movements similar to fingers playing, but there was nothing there for Alfred Jones' eyes to see. Was it mechanical? That was a better explanation- no, an acceptable explanation. One his brain could accept.

Reaching out, Alfred made to touch the pipe organ, touch being one of the five senses as well as sight, but touching made it real, made it seem real, appear real, feel real.

He reached out. Then the giant doors behind him slammed shut, the pipe organ's keys hid away under its cover, slamming as well and the room was plunged into darkness as the flames fled the angered room. Dead silence from a single move an unbelieving human made. The room judged him. Blindly, silently, unfeelingly, deafeningly, tastelessly judged him.

Said human flinched, feeling the unseen tension in the room, the room growing angry at his disbelief. Breathing heavily, he looked around, getting his bearings as sight was robbed from him. The rain being the only noise besides his heavy, frightened breathing. Then lightning struck, flying past the skies, lighting the room for a moment before growing dark again. Then God summoned the bolts again, the only light source in the room to make the boy see something. Try to find something the room was telling him. Looking up, he found it.

The windows, the windows that previously held the stories of the bible changed their tune. No longer did it hold the stories of humanities' greatness. Now, it held their weakness. The horseman War, coated in a bloody cross, crossed out of the list. Famine was crossed out, a burnt X of something long done. Death was cut from Grim Reaper's own Scythes, gone from the list. Left standing, alone, untouched, was Conquest. Bright and white, gleaming victory that wasn't in reach.

As Alfred Jones took those in, flames erupted on the stage, the flowers eaten in moments by the hell fires that brightened up the room. Quickly backing away, Jones' glasses fell down his nose as he was startled from the heat and light of the sudden eruption, the loud hiss of the flames and the suddenness that it happened. Pushing his glasses up, he looked to see the flowers had seemingly combusted on the table with no explanation. But there was a pattern, he quickly noticed. Flames were uncontrollable, he believed anyway, so the fact that the flames weren't passing a certain point caught his eyes immediately.

The flames kept burning. The burning never stopping, even when its fuel ran out. Getting up to the table, the heat hitting his face yet the smoke never hit him, simply blowing aside like a gentle caress beckoning him closer. As he took in the sight before him, he could barely believe his irises to be working. Perhaps his eyes were worse than the optician had feared, for he could never see what was before him to be real, to be truthful.

Before him, burning bright and true, was a cross. From where Alfred was standing, he knew it was meant to be as it was. An upside down cross, a mockery of Christ himself.

As quickly as it was there, it was suddenly gone.

Wind blew from nowhere, blowing out the fires, the heat, the light and blowing the doors wide open, the candles suddenly catching light again and the windows returning to normal. As if it had never happened. No ash was left from the flames and the windows hadn't a scratch when the horseman made their appearance. Alfred had to wonder if he had been drugged at dinner or was finally going insane inside the old mansion. Or if the ghost Arthur told him about was real. It would make sense, the ghost had been killed, she was bound to be angry and would want to extract revenge on everyone for leaving her to die. For not helping her, whether involved or not.

Alfred didn't want to stay here for another minute. He didn't care that he could break his leg in the process trying to get over the fence, it was better than staying in a house haunted by angry spirits and poltergeists.

Dashing out of the room, Alfred ran without clear thought for where he knew the front door lay. Rushing down the stairs through the main hall, he reached the door and pulled. Only to find it locked. A big pair of old huge doors that had locks that couldn't be seen therefore couldn't be opened. How was that possible? Desperate to escape the haunted house, he pulled with all his might, even pushed, but it nary moved. Trapped inside a house with an evil lurking spirit, Alfred slid to the floor in defeat, signed to his fate. Maybe if he pled with the spirits, they would release him from his prison. How could he have been so stupid as to stay here? Obviously Arthur being a residence here was welcome, but Alfred certainly wasn't.

A pitter patter of footsteps caught his attention. Footsteps, now spirits certainly didn't have those. He turned to spot two children, twin brothers it seemed. Both had similar brown hair, both with weird curls standing up but opposite each other. The brighter haired brother was smiling, whilst the other seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face. They both appeared to be around nine years old, having been playing before they spotted Alfred running in terror to escape the house. They seemed real; Alfred heard footsteps of children so he gathered that they were more residents in the mansion itself.

The nicer of the two brothers came up to Alfred, worry on his face. "Mister, are you okay?"

The scowling one growled, non-threateningly of course, "Feliciano, what are you doing?" He was almost yelling, as much as a nine year old could yell.

Feliciano turned back to his brother, "Romano, can't you see he is sad?" Feliciano turned back to Alfred, curious and innocent. "Mister, why are you sad?"

Alfred couldn't get angry with a child, especially one as innocent as Feliciano. Maybe not so much Romano, however. He put on a brave smile, trying to forget what had happened earlier and stood up to look down at the couple.

"Oh, I'm not sad, kiddo. Don't worry; I just… wanted fresh air." Alfred quickly lied, not needing to scare the children about the ghostly activities of the night. That was how he gained his phasmophobia.

Feliciano blinked a few times, about to answer when he was stopped by a yell of: "Feliciano! Romano!" Looking up, the trio noticed another maid turning up, a younger but certainly flame hearted unlike the other Alfred had. She quickly patted the boys' heads as they ran to her, as if she were their mother. There was no resemblance between them, but there was no denying the aura of a mother and her children that Jones felt when he looked at the family.

"What are you two doing up so late? You're supposed to be in bed!"

Both Feliciano and Romano flinched before apologising one hundred and one times (too fast for Alfred to actually count) whilst coming up with excuses and accusations for each other. It reminded Alfred of his own brother, Matthew. They were inseparable as twins, but as times went on, their differences forced them apart. Not just relationship wise, but also distance wise. Alfred had never meant to overshadow his brother during their school years, but it also hadn't been his fault that they were barely able to be told apart. One day, Alfred sought to fix his relationship with his brother. One day.

Alfred Jones blinked when he noticed the maid looking at him. He smiled nervously, almost embarrassed to be caught out in his own thoughts.

The maid smiled, before she spoke; "I haven't seen you around before, what's your name, sir?"

Alfred noticed not only her accent but her language also. He coughed to clear his airways before he began to reply. "Alfred, Alfred Jones, madam." He put on a charming smile. He always knew how to get into the good books and good looks of women when necessary. Those shops that had simple minded women minding the tills. A nice smile and a wiggle of eyebrows was all that was needed for a discount. Had to get discounts somewhere in the world to live the life of a student.

The maid smiled, "Oh, you're the lad that Arthur Kirkland was talking about!" She curtsied, something Alfred was very uncomfortable about. He really didn't do posh. "I'm Elizaveta, a maid here as well as a step mother for Feliciano and Romano. I'm sorry; I hope they didn't disturb you, Mr Jones?"

Alfred blinked a few times, before he shook his head and smiled again. "Oh no, they weren't, it's completely fine!"

Elizaveta chuckled, "Yes, Arthur did mention you were a commoner and not used to our way of life. Do not worry, you will grow accustomed to it, I'm sure!"

Alfred wasn't so sure he _wanted_ to get accustomed to it.

Suddenly there was a bang of a door slamming. Elizaveta looked back quickly, before urging the children to hurry into the closest room, urging Alfred to do the same. "Go, quickly!" She shut the door behind her quickly, just as the footsteps became loud enough to hear through the door as it echoed around the mansion to a degree. Putting their ears to the door, both Elizaveta and Alfred listened through the century old wood.

It was muffled, but clear to hear; "You bought someone into the mansion without asking me!"

There were a few stutters, before a clear answer made it to their eardrums; "I did, but he meant no harm! Honest, I give my word, your ladyship!" Alfred recognised that voice, even through the old wood. That was Arthur. That was Arthur in trouble.

"You have driven my patience, Kirkland! We can't have a stranger in here whilst the master is ill!"

There was an irritated sigh before a reply was heard. "I am aware of this, but I was certain the young lad wouldn't harm the master! He is merely a child!" Alfred shouldn't have felt as irritated as he had, considering Arthur was defending him. Being called a child when he was anything but, having a job trying to get him by until he could find a better one for his future was rather like a kick to the teeth.

There was the sound of a slight struggle, then a gasp. Looking through the keyhole quickly, Alfred saw Arthur's wrist had been grabbed by a female looking wrist, but it was deadly and angry and defensive.

"You know yourself how dangerous children are; don't forget what your brothers did to you before our family took you in. You ran away when your parents and brothers were killed in the IRA bombing; you said so yourself, you were glad when they were dead."

Arthur pulled his wrist out of the hands of the versatile female. "That was a long time ago and I was ignorant! I was a child, of course I would hope for the death of my tormentors! I have changed and I mourned for their deaths but it makes no difference now. I will never see them again and no amount of mourning will ever bring them to the state that I am now!"

Alfred felt for Arthur, whilst he didn't seem to hold much love for his parents nor his brothers (Arthur had brothers? He failed to mention that) he obviously was grateful enough to them for giving birth to him to mourn their deaths. Though he didn't entirely understand what Kirkland meant by "state I am now". Sure, he was a right state, mentally he was buggered up, but with Arthur's language, he didn't think that that was what he meant.

"We can't trust anyone, Kirkland. Soon, the master will pass on and leave us to our fates. It's in his interests as well as our own that the kid you brought in doesn't know what happened, or if he already knows make sure he never leaves this mansion. That's your job, Kirkland. Fix your mess up before I do."

Arthur gulped, but replied with honesty. "He is aware of some of the story, but I lied about the remainder of it. He is unaware of it, I swear on Jesus Christ himself, my lady! There's no need for it, he does not have anyone to tell and he does not have anything to do to compromise us! I swear, my lady!" Arthur seemed desperate for the woman to understand that Alfred Jones wasn't harmful, it seemed. That Alfred Jones was merely a young adult that had gotten in the wrong place at the wrong time. Little did Alfred Jones know that it was the worst place to be at the worst time possible.

The female almost snarled as she spoke. "He knows too much, Kirkland. It will be on your head, and so you should have to deal with it. Don't disappoint me or you know what will happen. Get rid of that Alfred F. Jones fellow, or else." She huffed before turning and walking away.

Alfred's eyes widened as he watched Arthur's face take on a helplessly sad expression. He brought his hands to his face, rubbing several times. Again, he was surprised to find a glistening from the butler's cheeks that fall as crocodile tears. Crocodile tears, so Alfred thinks.

The tears were real, but not for long. Soon, they turned to crocodile tears as a sudden Cheshire cat smile lit up his face.

"That's it, of course! Then he won't ever leave this place!" His voice was wavy, shaky and derailed. His voice rung like the man had found the answer to life, given the answer over life and death or powers beyond the grave. It scared Alfred.

Apparently, it scared Elizaveta as well.

She quickly grabbed Alfred's arm, tense, definitely a frightened doe. When Alfred turned, he realised she wasn't afraid because of what Arthur said. She was afraid because there was a sudden ball of silver light floating in the sky. He almost screamed, but he bit down, hard, on his hand when he remembered Arthur Kirkland, the butler now charged to kicking him out of the mansion apparently, was just outside. He wasn't sure what the silver ball was; a ghost? A ghoul? Apparently it didn't matter to the twins that were cooing over it down near the floor. They began jumping up and down; trying to grasp it within their little hands, but the silver ball was as ethereal as air, untouchable.

"Feliciano, Romano!" Elizaveta whispered, not risking a yell just yet so close to enemy spies. "Stop that!"

They did, but groaned with a tone of 'you never let us do anything!' They forget about that as soon as they notice the silver soul bobbing slightly, before turning around and floating away slowly. That was a clear indication as any to follow the floating blob. The children wasted no time in following the blob, one giggling and one growling. With a tired sigh making the maid sound older than she was, she hurried to follow them. Alfred, not feeling comfortable being alone in the mansion after what he had seen all day since he touched the grounds of this mansion, hurried after them.

The corridor in which the said 'blob' being had chosen wasn't a friendly one. The corridor was barely lit with candles all along the walls, simple candles, not candelabra's. It definitely did not hold the most welcoming of vibe. Alfred regretted not bringing a candelabrum along with him or even a torch if this mansion ever had one. Instead, he was left waiting for his eyes to adjust to the lighting whilst following closely behind Elizaveta and the twins. He _really_ hated ghosts and anything that seemed like one, call him a chicken, or Shaggy or Scooby Doo. That was similar to how he was feeling, like he was in _Scooby Doo._

He put a hand on Elizaveta's shoulder, not that he was scared or anything; "Is it really safe to be following that?" He asked, he would deny anytime and anyone ever said his voice wavered at that exact point.

Elizaveta didn't look back. "We don't have much to fear in these halls, nor life in general. If this truly is the soul of our dear departed Katyusha, then she might be wanting to tell us something! We could help the master!"

Though Alfred had never met the master of the house, he couldn't help but feel that these servants were doing a bit much to try and 'help him' with the problems that he had. If earlier with the butler Arthur Kirkland was anything to go by, they were willing to murder in his name to keep him safe and healthy. Whoever the woman who had ordered Arthur Kirkland around was, it was clear that they, or she at the very least, saw Alfred as a threat, for whatever reason they so believed. He wasn't sure how, or why, but he knew that he couldn't trust anyone in this mansion any longer. But Elizaveta didn't seem to agree with them, did she? Otherwise she would've gone and opened the door, revealing where Jones himself was hiding away. But, you could never be too careful!

He didn't ask again after that, but merely stayed close, keeping that hand on her shoulder, more for his sake than hers.

The soul of Katyusha kept floating on, slowly, as if to reassure itself that the guests were still following. It soon reached a door, to which it then flew straight through.

"I think she wants us to go inside!" Feliciano pointed out.

"No shit Sherlock!" Romano facepalmed. Alfred guessed by the lack of telling off that this was a common occurrence.

Feliciano almost seemed put out by that, his eyes glistening as if to burst into tears, before he suddenly perked up. "Let's go inside!" He turned and quickly grabbed for the door knob, an old long golden one that seemed so archaic it made the mansion look new. Feliciano tried pulling the knob, but the door refused to open, frozen in that same place since most could remember.

Feliciano frowned, obviously disappointed that the door didn't open, but not heartbroken as was expected. As much as Alfred was expecting anyway. Feliciano looked towards his brother, who was scowling and then rolled his eyes at the pitiful look he gave.

"Idiot, brother. It shouldn't matter if the door is locked." Romano scolded, tapping his foot in impatience. Feli's eyes welded up as if to cry, before his brother shook his head again. "Fine, fine! I'll open it for you!" He growled and he turned towards the door, then simply walked through.

Alfred Jones blinked a few times.

Romano didn't come back, but there was a click of the door, and it opened revealing the same Romano on the other side of the door.

Alfred blinked again a few times.

Were his eyes deceiving him? Was his brain truly that cruel to him as to conjure up this fantasy nightmare? He took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes a few times before putting them back on. Romano seemed to have moved closer whilst keeping the door open, a concerned look on his face, whilst at the same time still demeaning him with a gaze.

"What's the matter, not seen a ghost before?"

It was that one word that set off the alarms of London's bombings of World War II inside his head.

"G-g-ghost?"

Elizaveta glanced at Alfred, slightly shocked as if she hadn't known that Alfred was oblivious to the whole thing from the start.

Suddenly, there were loud creaking footsteps and the only thing that stopped the utterly terrified scream of Alfred F. Jones was Elizabeta's hand over his mouth and the twins that quickly pushed him into the now unlocked room and quickly shut the door. The only thing that kept the room illuminated was the light from the soul that continued to float in midair, waiting patiently for her guests to follow, but now curious as to what was going on for such a reaction to occur.

On the other side of the door, Elizaveta quickly looked busy; looking for the twins that everyone would suspect had run away again to cause mischief. She looked up as the boots became unmistakable and loud for anyone to hear. Around the corner came Mister Arthur Kirkland himself, looking as immaculate as always, as if the incident with the master's sister had never happened.

"Ah, Miss Héderváry, what brings you down here? Not many walk these corridors at night, you are aware." Arthur drawled. Elizaveta herself was safe, there was not much else that could be done anymore, but she knew that she had to keep Alfred Jones safe, for all of their sakes.

"Oh, Mister Kirkland, I am well aware. It is those twins again, I seemed to have turned my back for mere a moment, sir, and they had run off again." She smiled slightly as if embarrassed by that. "You're aware of how they are; they always attract trouble to themselves."

Arthur smiled; he was always fond of children but never having any of his own. "I am aware, Elizaveta, but it is not safe to be down here. The Master barred this area for a reason. Do you know where they might have run off too?"

Elizaveta shook her head. "Unfortunately not, sir. Mayhaps they have run outside? But I was sure I caught them with my eyes running here but I have lost their trail. Pardon me, sir." She apologised.

Arthur shook his hand. "No, no. Fear not, I will keep it to my own. Not a word of this will pass my lips. Now then, whilst on your search, you did not happen to notice a young chap with brown hair and glasses did you? He is the guest we have been keeping. We seemed to have misplaced him."

This was where she was stepping on glass. "I know not, sir. I remembered leaving him to his room and bid him goodnight, sir. Perhaps he went for fresh air? I know not." She explained best she could with a confused face and making believable lies. Arthur Kirkland was the best performer when it came to poker faces, not one to be challenged easily.

Arthur seemed to buy it, however. "Very well, thank you very much. Go about your business of finding those twins. I will let you know if I find them for you." Arthur bowed slightly, before he turned and walked further down the corridor and away.

Breathing a sigh of relief out of his earshot, Elizaveta phased through the door, effectively through Alfred in the process who was listening through the door. Alfred shrieked, pushing himself away from the door and onto the floor, looking up at the maid with genuine fear in his eyes, shaking badly unable to control himself any longer, petrified under their illusion.

"W-what are you people!?" He almost shouted, but he had composure enough to remember the other ghost that was walking away down the hall.

Elizaveta held out her arms for the twins and they came running, both tucking under her arms for protection as she was to begin her tale. The true tale of what occurred.

"Okay, but you have to promise, swear, to yourself to never tell another soul, whether you are alive or dead." She took a deep breath before she began. "It was the wedding party of our beloved Katyusha and her spouse before there was a gunshot and someone had shot Katyusha and her beloved stone dead in a heartbeat. We were all traumatized, the screaming, but no running as everyone turned to see the murderer move the gun onto himself as he shot himself in the head. He died instantly. We thought that it was over, that he merely killed two of our family and then himself, but we were wrong. During the party, he had spiked every drink that was being served at the party, except for the two loved up newlyweds' own drinks as they had their own drinks for themselves that weren't spiked. That was why he shot them, to kill them for sure. And he killed himself because he couldn't handle the guilt nor the strain of what he had done."

"Even then, we were wrong about how many he killed. He spiked every one of our drinks, five minutes after the murder had happened and we were mourning, one by one, we fainted. Then, finally, we died. All of us died on the year 1995 and the Master's other sister was shot before anyone else behind the scenes, we found her to be dead when she visited us again. She was shot first, dear Natalia."

So that was it. It all made sense now. The many hundreds of graves that were lined up, most of them ending with the year 1995 being their death. Nine out of ten of them died in 1995, even the children were spiked of their drinks and died as a result. And nobody in the outside world ever knew, because their entire family was there and they relied almost completely on their family. So many murders and nobody ever knew the truth and nobody realised that hundreds passed away that night in 1995 and to this day still don't know.

"That's what we are, Mister Alfred Jones. We're all ghost, we all died over a decade ago and we cannot leave this place. We have been cursed, we were murdered and all our souls seek vengeance, but the murderer, he is here in these mansion walls! We cannot leave here and now he has trapped you here as well with us all. That's why I hid you away; I can't let him murder you too. Until we can find a way to lift the curse from this mansion, you have to stay hidden with me."

It was too much. The thought of the possibility of being killed if anyone else spotted them, when he was a simple mortal being with not even a mind of steel, let alone a resolve of steel. He was ready to panic, ready to bolt and forget this place ever existed. Why? Why did his mind become transfixed on this place and refuse to leave him alone? Why was he cursed to stay here, kidnapped by _ghosts_ when he wasn't involved in any way?

"You have to help us; Katyusha wouldn't have picked you if she didn't believe you had a heart of gold, Alfred. He believes you to be the only person that could help us do what we must before we go to the gates of heaven and live in the afterlife. Please? You're our only hope!"

Alfred sighed, standing up and rubbing his face, the glasses following the back of his hands before falling down his face and being lifted back upon his nose. "This is too much… I was only meant to hide out here for a day from the chavs…"

Suddenly, the room grew brighter blue. Turning, having almost forgotten about the blue soul of Katyusha herself, the crew looked to see her bouncing up and down above a chest that was clearly locked. They gathered around it, and Alfred could clearly see that the lock had rusted over the years and was easy to pull open, for someone who could anyway. Pulling the lock apart, he opened the chest only to find pictures of the wedding of what he assumed was Katyusha and her beloved husband newlywed. They looked happy together, at peace and enjoying themselves. How anybody could've ruined their wedding day was beyond him.

Pushing the photos as he looked through them, the twins doing the same, they came upon a book of what appeared to be a diary. It was dark in colour, almost business like, clearly the book of a strict man. As nosey as he was and well aware that the author was long dead, Alfred opened the book to discover the diary belonged to Ivan Braginski, the apparent master of the house, so the diary said. There were many entries, most that Alfred deemed unimportant, a mention of being ill and having blank moments where he doesn't remember doing things, but there was a certain animosity towards a guy that seemed interested in Katyusha, Alfred assumed to be her now late husband. It got worse as it went on, the pen writing suddenly turning violent in its elegant lines, speaking a story of a man filled with such rage and jealousy that the pages could barely stay together to keep the message coherent. Some were even tried to be scribbled out and a later on saying he didn't know why he wrote what he did, or simply didn't remember and wondered what he himself was talking about, but as Alfred went on, it became obvious that the rage took over and the scribbles died out.

Until he came to the last entry, almost scratched out by a knife.

_April 14th 1995_

_Dear Diary,_

_She is marrying him! Him! Of all the people to court, of all to spend forever and eternity with her soul with to remain faithful until the end, she picks that outrageous and arrogant tyrant of a fellow! The wretched scumbag that stole her from me every day, the incubus that poisons my very sister's mind, beds her every night sure to impregnate her and sin her soul to send it to purgatory when her body is done! I cannot allow this to happen! It must never happen!_

_It shall be done! I will save my sister from this poisonous dream of wanting to bed a demon other than myself! I will be her only one, for nobody else stands in her life, nobody else had saved her from the depths of this cruel, cruel world and nobody else was capable of raising her as you grew with them! Who was left to pick up her pieces? It was I and no one else! I shan't let that monstrosity of a man who claims to be a man to ruin her life and drive her down into the depths of the Underworld after I worked so hard to keep her above into the normality of the planet!_

_Natalia had found out of my plan, but fear not that she will be a problem no longer. She was a problematic wench, but no more. I pray for her soul nonetheless as she was still my sister and I pray for my sins as I add up to many and shall add to many more this night, a Bloody Valentine we shall have once again, only nobody outside this mansion will ever know the truth of it. With the power of the Other Side, I will be able to keep them trapped in this mansion forever, lest the souls of the two beloveds combine together once again once made. Then, forever, shall I be King of this mansion once again!_

_Amen._

_NOWAFEBOSUES._

_GOD FORGIVE ME._

Alfred went white as a sheet, realising the full gravity of the situation. Ivan Braginski, the master of the mansion, the one that was said to be unwell, seemingly had been unwell whilst he was alive as well, was the murderer to all these people. He was the murderer, and yet the ghosts that he had killed and was now trapping them forever were serving under him still, even as he had done as he had. The question was, why? Did they fear his power? Or did they simply have no reason to fight back, until now?

Alfred looked to Elizaveta, who was still cuddling the twins close to her, as if she was afraid. But what did she have to fear? She was already dead, and he believed there was not a worse fate than death. Was he then, supposedly, wrong?

"Why do you want me to help now? If you've been here for over a decade, why do you suddenly want to go to heaven?"

Elizaveta shook her head. "You are alive, whilst we are dead. Ivan can almost completely control us whilst our souls are fragile, whilst you're alive and your soul remains protected. You're the only one that can get past him and bring Katyusha's soul to her beloved. Only when they are reunited will Ivan wake up properly!"

Alfred wanted to ask more, but life would not allow him. Suddenly, Elizaveta was pushed from behind, falling down on top, or through really, Alfred to the ground; the twins quickly dashing away and returning to her side with small cries and questions if she was alright. Alfred didn't pay much attention, as he was too busy staring at the ghostly image of the butler, Arthur Kirkland who had upon his face an evil smirk, a smirk of victory. Instead of looking real, he appeared like just a ghost should, to Alfred's utter horror. As a whole, he appeared a light blue with shines of white under the light of Katyusha's soul and transparent, half his lower body stuck inside the door and he appeared taller than Alfred remembered, so he could only assume that the dead could fly. Of course they could.

"That is quite enough damage you have done now, Elizaveta, no need to tell our guest every single secret that lies here in this mansion." Arthur laughed, his full body coming out of the door and Alfred took note how the air around him seemed to swirl cold mist, like the very air was protesting against his very existence. Along with Arthur, came his dog, Fabian, standing to attention, the same blue glow as the rest. One could only guess that the dog was poisoned as well at the party for the dog to be as dead as his master.

"The master wishes to see the guest, I was going to make an elaborate lie about greeting him, but I'm afraid he won't be so inclined to greet him when he will simply send him on his way, should we say?" There was a glint in his eyes; one Alfred didn't think was capable of a ghost to have considering they lacked a certain few things living did. From behind him, Arthur picked out his gun that was part of his person, therefore ghostly as well, and clicked it back to show it was loaded and ready to fire. "Or I can simply go hunting myself."

Without even waiting for Elizaveta to tell him the obvious, Alfred rolled to his feet and quickly ran through the ghost of the butler, who spluttered in surprise and turned to watch the door slam shut.

Growling, Arthur pointed to Elizaveta and the children. "Fabian! Guard these traitors whilst I catch that rabbit, don't let them leave." Standing up, Fabian snarled at the group, crouching but standing attention at the same time to make sure they understood their situation. The children shuddered, Feliciano started to cry and bawl, whilst Romano was a petrified statue. All Elizaveta could do was hug them closer to her, they couldn't hurt them but the children need not be reminded of why.

Meanwhile, Alfred ran for his life, having no idea where he was going in a blind panic, only focusing on getting out alive. He ran through the badly lit corridors, throwing a random door open to find himself in the kitchen, which he found, to his relief, empty. He didn't turn on any of the candles or any light source. He quickly let his eyes adjust and hid under one of the tables that didn't look like it had an opening underneath but did, like an office desk.

A few minutes later after he finally got his heart calming down a bit, there was a slam of the door being kicked open and the footsteps of the executioner himself.

"Alfred, oh dear guest, where has thou fled to, I wonder?" He heard Arthur almost sing Shakespearean style. He heard the footsteps, so clearly Arthur wasn't floating and wasn't ghostly anymore, but that didn't change the fact that he was hunting and enjoying it. Alfred had to wonder what happened to the lovely gentlemanly butler he met when he first arrived. Yes, Arthur had shot at him first, but then they got to talking and he learnt about Arthur's past, being an orphan having lost his parents to the IRA bombings and being welcomed into another family with ease, so he got told. How could a person like that, who told his past like that, simply hunt him down like a dog?

"Well, I suppose I will have to search for you, lad. It was a shame; I was rather fond of you. You seemed like such an optimistic young thing, a shame to ruin it. But the master's word is law; you should've left when he had the chance." Arthur's feet were right by where he was hiding and Alfred stopped breathing. He hoped, that by holding his breath, Arthur wouldn't notice nor look to where he was hiding.

When Alfred spotted the hand about to lift the covers or crouch down to see him, he reacted quicker than the eye dared follow. Leaping from under the desk, Alfred tackled Arthur down to the ground, Arthur unable to phase through as he was taken by complete surprise and the gun went clattering off far to the side, too far to reach in their position. They hit the floor with a bang and Alfred kept Arthur pinned down, being in singular fights enough to know how to defend himself reasonably.

"Not today! You lunatic dude! What the hell did I ever do to you or your 'master', what do you want from me!?" Alfred shouted, nearing hysterics. Arthur flinched at the sharpness of his voice, as if it hurt him physically to hear it, then he held his hands up in surrender. With no weapon, he couldn't hurt Alfred at all, neither could Alfred hurt him.

"A heroic heart can get past Ivan Braginski himself and save the soul he has hostage, Katyusha's beloved husband is with him. I had to stop you, I was ordered to by Ivan himself and I can't disobey him otherwise we become like him! And I can't let you stop him because I won't find heaven, I'm sinful, I'm tainted and I am set for purgatory for not confessing my sins!"

Alfred blinked a few times, gathering his breath back before he could ask why, but Arthur continued, already spilling everything he kept hidden. "I knew the IRA bombing was going to happen, I knew it was going to blow there! I ran away before it did and I didn't tell my family, I left them to die! That is the same as committing the sin of murder yourself! I never confessed, because I wanted them dead, they never appreciated me and they treated me like an object to show off. I was paying for my sins by treating the Braginski family well and they treated me well in return, they are my real family! I can't let you break this curse on all of us and send the others to heaven, whilst I will be sent down with Ivan himself down to purgatory and then finally to hell and spent an eternity with the devil himself. I can't do it!"

Alfred shook his head, unable to care too much for what he believed to happen. It wasn't fair to keep back hundreds of ghosts from going to heaven.

"That is the most selfish thing to do, how can you stop these ghosts from going to heaven and resting, just because you think you're going to hell?"

Arthur glared at Alfred, tearing up in anger and frustration. "I don't THINK I'm going to hell, I know I am! And nobody hates it here, nobody here is crying because they can't reach heaven, everyone else is outside right now; laughing and cheering because they are immortal now, we can live forever in this world and soon as we grow used to it, we can travel it all without the thought of food, water or rest! We can enjoy what most people can't from this world!"

Alfred was tempted to slap him into his senses. "No, you won't! Don't you see; you're trapped here because Ivan has trapped you here! You'll never be free!" He shook Arthur for extra impact.

"Even if that's so, I prefer this to purgatory!"

"This is purgatory for some! This would be my purgatory if this happened to me, you wouldn't let me or anyone else into this, would you?"

Those words hit home. No, it was true that Arthur would never wish purgatory on anyone. So, being trapped inside this mansion was purgatory for some? Like Elizaveta and the twins, for example? No, he'd never allow them to be in purgatory, how constricting it must've been for them, and he had never known! They had never said a thing, but their actions today spoke more volumes than ever before. They wouldn't be helping Alfred if they didn't want to leave this place forever. Shaking his head, Arthur's hands fell to the side, giving up and surrendering completely as Alfred drew a sigh of relief.

"Call your dog off, then I'll go look for Ivan."

Arthur shook his head. "Not alone, you can't. Ivan, he would kill you too before you have the chance, at least let me distract him. He can't do anything to me. But remember, I'm doing this for them, Feliciano and Romano and all the children that are outside in the graveyard playing all day as they have done for years now. They've never left that place since they died." Arthur's sudden determination didn't deter Alfred, he knew of how fond of children Arthur was the moment he spoke the names. He hadn't forgiven him and he didn't trust him, but it was the best he was going to get.

Standing up and helping Arthur up, Alfred strutted out of the kitchen, as Arthur picked up his shotgun and followed him, the shotgun to his side. Alfred waited for Arthur to get out of the kitchen before asking him where was more likely to find Ivan or where to find Kayusha's beloved soul. At the mention of the name, Katyusha's soul suddenly flew in from where Alfred had run away previously, bringing Fabian with it. Smiling, Arthur patted Fabian's head before staring at Katyusha's soul.

"I beg your forgiveness, dear Katyusha. I was oblivious to his plans, though I knew he held that hatred in his heart for your beloved, I knew not that he was to do as he did. Please, forgive me and my ignorance!" He put a hand to his heart, begging for forgiveness for one of his many sins he committed.

The soul of Katyusha seemed to brush against Arthur's cheek, a clear sign that she forgave him, and the smile that Arthur had on his face showed that he was glad; one more sin was out of the way before he was on his way to hell.

"Thank you; I will treasure your forgiveness with me to my final resting place."

Alfred had to smile slightly, after all Arthur didn't seem to have the best of lives out there. From what he could tell, Arthur made through with what he had and what he could.

Arthur looked slightly behind Alfred, then quickly brought up his shotgun, pushing Alfred down to shoot at whatever had ambushed the group during their reunion. However, an arrow flew quicker than the bullet could launch and dug straight through the gun, rendering it useless.

"Blast it! Ivan, what are you doing!?"

Turning his head around, Alfred spotted the one and only. Just like the statue outside that held his highness and the pictures that were shown around the mansion, stood the man in the flesh with his bow and arrows, rather than guns. Alfred could only guess he preferred them or they only had one gun that Arthur himself used. But there was something different. He noticed Ivan's eyes, whilst most of the pictures shows he had purple eyes, a strange eye colour at that, his eyes appeared to be red, bright red as if he were a vampire. He knew, however, that that was not the case. It had to be something else.

Blinking, looking again and concentrating, he caught the outline of something else… a goat-head, wings, tail and claws… he knew from his studies and the many depictions of the devil himself that this could be none other than the lord of the Underworld himself. Satan, The Devil, Lucifer, The Snake and the many other hundreds of names that he himself had collected over the years of his legacy as God's opposition. That was what he meant in his diary about bedding another demon other than himself, the illness, the sudden rage and hatred of everything and the ability to control their souls.

Ivan never did kill anyone; he was possessed by the devil!

His hatred for Katyusha's wedding must've set him deep enough into a rage for the devil to possess him and to cause all this havoc and even refuse the spirits their rest in heaven. This was what was manipulating Arthur into staying loyal under his wing.

"Arthur, you disappoint me, da. I asked you to take the guest out and you are here talking pleasantries with him. I thought I raised you better."

However, Arthur wasn't fooled by the façade. Throwing his gun to the side, now useless, he stands in front of Alfred to protect him, having seen what Alfred had. "Who are you and why have you imprisoned Ivan?"

The being laughed, the laughter growing demonic as he laughed harder, Ivan's eyes turning more red, his skin bubbling as the form was failing as the demon was taking over, growing a devil tail and the horns sprouted from his head and claws grew, but he still retained a human like shape despite that. When he finally stopped laughing, he spoke, his voice echoing in fifty different voices.

"I go by many names and just plain fun, really. Imagine, young one, the cold black pit of what many called Hell, I take over many humans for entertainment, a way to leave my prison when I can, without your pesky God to interfere with my manners of games. There is no reason but fun to be had on a planet that makes no difference to the way in the universe."

Alfred blinked. Really, just for fun. He killed hundreds of people just to have a laugh? Was this guy for real? He had heard the stories, the Bible, Paradise Lost and even Dante's Inferno, but never had he imagined it to be like this.

"But I am not about to allow a human to ruin it for me."

Then hot white searing pain, out of nowhere, the world blanked to white for a moment, white noise screaming in his ears as he felt a thud as he was sure he hit the floor. He wasn't sure what happened, but when the world cleared moments later, he realised. He had been shot by an arrow. He couldn't feel the pain, there was too much else going on that he could barely concentrate on it.

Fabian was barking, rushing at Ivan with claws and huge white teeth as he crunched the bow in half and went for the demon's feet to push him down defenceless whilst Arthur was patting his face, yelling something at him that he couldn't quite hear or read.

Then his ears cleared.

"ALFRED! Speak to me, lad! Can you hear me?"

Too hurt to speak, Alfred nodded slightly, wincing as he did so. Oh God, that hurt, worse than anything he had felt before. Worse than when he got hit by that car riding his bike, fucking driver hadn't been paying attention.

"Take deep breaths, Alfred boy. You're going to be alright if you breathe deeply and calmly." It didn't matter to Alfred, it hurt too much for him to believe that. He had heard the stories, arrows were deadly, as deadly if not more deadly than the bullets of today. You didn't stand much chance surviving either.

The bark and whine of Fabian let Arthur know that Ivan was getting the upper hand and he knew that Ivan just wanted to finish the job to keep them trapped forever. Growling -how dare that monster hurt his friend!- Arthur grabbed for his shotgun, breaking off the tip of the arrow from the imbedded arrow that wasn't going to come out, no matter how hard he tried, he stood up. Quickly, as Ivan got too close for comfort, his claws ready to slash anyone's face off, Arthur raised the tip and stabbed Ivan in the heart, right where he knew would kill any demon. Arthur's face was slashed in the process, no blood left the skin, but the tears and the skull beneath the skin showed, like the skin was a mask after all and the skeleton was all that was alive for the ghost to appear, like a lion had clawed out a rug with one swipe. His skin fell, having no more support from the rest of its cells, but that didn't even hesitate or distract Arthur from making sure the demon was dead.

Screaming profanities of many languages, including non existing ones, the demon's skin crumbled, then tore away and blew away like paper torn and sent away with the Autumn wind. What was left behind was the real soul of Ivan, the untainted part of him that had been as much a prisoner as Katyusha's soul, nothing but a small ball of blue soul reunited with his sister along with the other ball of soul that must've been Katyusha's beloved husband. They both bounced enthusiastically, flying to meet with Katyusha's soul before they danced around each other, like Tellitubbies that had been kept apart for years and years.

But it wasn't said to be the same for Arthur Kirkland, who fell down to Alfred's side, pulling out the arrow and slapping his face to keep him awake.

"Come on Alfred, lad. You can make it through this."

Alfred did manage a small giggle without hurting himself further, reaching out a hand to touch Arthur's face.

"You… fucked up your face, man." Alfred laughed weakly again before he coughed, coughing up blood and unable to breathe. "Guess I'll join you now… wait up for me, a'ight man?" He didn't wait for Arthur's reply as his arm fell down to the side, coughing up the last of his blood from his lungs, before he choked to death.

Arthur, unable to cry, just stared at the body for moments, before Fabian managed to walk to his master, rubbing his head on his side to comfort the man who just lost the one thing that opened his eyes to everything that had happened.

But then, the ceiling began to glow, then glow further yellow as suddenly clouds began to form inside the mansion. Blinking, Arthur and Fabian glanced around, anxious and weary. Then they caught the view of stairs. Golden stairs leaving up into the clouds. Was this true? Could it be? Had Alfred opened his eyes to cause him to exorcise a demon then granted him safe passage to heaven? He couldn't believe his eyes.

Then, spotting something moving out of the corner of his eyes, he watched as a blue figure started to sit up from Alfred's body. Standing up, the blue spirit dusted himself, before he gaped at himself, turning and twisting to assess his body, then, of course, acted in the most appropriate manner.

"Holy shit, I'm a ghost!" Typically Alfred, he started slapping at himself, hoping to make the illusion go away. He stopped when he heard laughter from the side, looking to spot Arthur himself there, his human illusion failing and the blue appearance taking form, his ruined face disappearing normally, as if the fight never happened.

"Arthur! We can go to heaven! I told you ya would!" He put on a happy face, despite knowing he was dead, he was at least happy that he got Arthur to heaven rather than hell back with that demonic creature.

Smiling, Arthur nodded his head. Standing up and taking his hand, his other on Fabian's head, he winked, "Let's go see what heaven's like." With that, they stood and took the steps where many of the other spirits that had been trapped here since the death during the party began to line up, many with luggage as if they were waiting at an airport to go somewhere exotic. The mansion itself breathed a sigh of relief as it was finally left to rest in peace, eventually to be demolished in its death to make way for new buildings for homes for families and the like.

Nobody ever found Alfred F. Jones' body and his parents mourned for his believable death after the police found his bike left abandoned at the house that was left equally empty. There was blood in the halls, but the body had disappeared.

However, they did find a tombstone, one that his parents then began to visit every day, believing their son died for a good cause as they took the words of the tombstone to their hearts and prayed for his soul's fortune every day. The tombstone read;

**Alfred F. Jones**

**1992 – 2012**

**He died a tragic hero's death, just as he wished it so, saving the soul of another.**

A note that stood on his grave with a wilted rose of Britain, read;

_Alfred's Parents,_

_I thank you for raising a wonderful son and I mourn with you for his death, but I will always be thankful to him for saving my soul from a terrible tragedy. He is well looked out for, fear not, and pray to him every day, so he knows that you still care for him. Do not regret anything of Alfred, for he did not die in vain and nor did he die unhappy. He is well and he will always remember you. Perhaps he will visit one day, if He allows us, but I wanted you to know not to grieve for him, but to pray for him and be happy for the life that he lived and the life he lives now. And I thank you, once again, for your son is a wonderful creature._

_Alfred also says he's sorry he never bought the groceries home. Maybe next time._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Arthur Kirkland._

But right next to Alfred's tombstone, confusing his parents, but doing as the letter wished that they bought home with them to keep, they spotted another tombstone;

**Arthur Kirkland**

**1971 – 1995**

**Heart filled with sin, he died without cleansing and a lonely death, still now seeking company.**

**Author's Note:**

> ~Blackie


End file.
